


Just You and Me

by Renai_chan



Series: Ethos of Trust [3]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve hates parties and Tony helps him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this on my drive for the longest time. It used to be part of _I, for You_ until I couldn't fit it into the plot without being redundant. After reading it after a couple of months of aging, though, I supposed it could stand alone as an interlude of this ‘verse (I think this ‘verse has more smutty interludes than actual plot), hence the posting. It’s just pure PWP, no plot development whatsoever.
> 
> I think I write too much porn.

It wasn’t as though Steve didn’t appreciate all that Howard did for him: accepting him into his home and giving him his own suite, integrating him into high-class society, getting his Commandos the recognition he thinks they deserve and more, finding him a job that suits him and pays well and, most importantly, Tony. But really. He and Howard have been friends for over four decades and he _still_ couldn’t get Howard to stop bringing him to these fancy charity dinners.

 

Oh, he could very well guess that it was less because Howard enjoyed bringing him along, but more because he tended to rake in more guests and donations and pledges and (more importantly) Stark Industries investors whenever he came. And Steve came because he was a staunch supporter of many and any kinds of charities and he was and would always be eternally grateful of Howard and all his gifts. But if he were really honest—and he was, so Howard had unwillingly been on the receiving end of his spiel more than once—the one thing he would rather be doing more than anything else at the end of a long and tiring day was Tony, Tony who was sipping champagne and chatting amicably with James Rhodes by the bar, looking exceptionally delicious in his tux.

 

“You’ve been staring at him for the past two minutes, you know,” Howard whispered, handing Steve a glass of champagne. “And while I fully support your bedroom activities, eye-fucking my son across the room isn’t going to win us many favors tonight. Let’s keep it to the bedroom, yeah?” Steve leveled a glare at him. It had no heat though, so Howard waved it away with a chuckle and allowed him to glance down at the bubbles in his drink for a few seconds before tipping the liquid into his mouth. Getting drunk wasn’t the point of the exercise, but relishing the flavor was and it was damn good champagne.

 

He wondered how it would taste on Tony’s skin.

 

“I think this is the time where you steal my son away and promptly disappear into the night.” Steve turned to see an amused glint in his friend’s eye. “And you better do it quick because Lady McKinley is heading this way, and she’s been eye-fucking _you_ all night.” Steve turned in horror to see that Howard was right; the exuberant old woman who had made no secret of her affections for Steve was plowing through the ballroom at an impressive pace. He could only hear Howard’s cackle as he made his way to his lover and quickly extracted him from his group. Tony issued quick goodbyes to the people around him and followed Steve as he was lead out of the ballroom and into the car.

 

“That was close,” Steve huffed with a quick sigh of relief. He could handle HYDRA, exploding bombs, machine guns, and the Howling Commandos with practiced ease, but honestly, that little old woman’s fortitude terrified him. Beside him, Tony chuckled.

 

“Poor baby,” he murmured, sliding himself onto Steve’s lap, facing him, and pressing himself against the blonde. Steve matched his grin and tugged him closer by the chin for a kiss which quickly devolved from sweet and romantic to sloppy and lewd. In contrast, his hands calmly undid the buttons of Tony’s dress shirt and slid both the shirt and the jacket off in one motion, leaving the red bowtie around his neck. He traced the patch of skin around the bowtie, sending goosebumps racing across Tony’s skin.

 

“This makes you look like a present,” he noted before using his tongue to repeat the path of his fingertip. Tony moaned softly, rolling his head back to allow Steve access. “This,” Steve then murmured against Tony’s neck, his fingertip tracing the chain of the dog tags that hung between Tony’s nipples. “This makes me want to fuck you silly every time I see you in them.” The dog tags were his, of course, worn alongside Tony’s collar and remained there as a failsafe for when the collar clashed with his clothes.

 

“Precisely why I wear them all the time,” Tony said cheekily. Steve made an appreciative sound and attached his mouth to Tony’s collarbone, sucking and biting on it until he was sure there would be a big, red mark. Tony moaned softly and rocked against him while threading his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve wrapped his arms around the small waist to grip at the tight ass, squeezing the globes firmly, painfully, and dragging the teenager closer. “Oh, fuck, _Steeeeve_ …” Tony wailed into Steve’s neck as he rubbed himself against the bigger man. “Steve, _please_!”

 

“Suck me, Tony,” Steve murmured, pressing more kisses against Tony’s lips. “And when we get home, I’ll fuck you into the floor as hard as you want me to.” Tony took a moment to whimper at the thought before prying himself away and settling between Steve’s knees, his hands working frantically at the belt and dress pants of his lover. Steve lifted his hips up to allow Tony to drag his pants down and hadn’t even reseated himself when Tony’s mouth was on his cock. “Oh, god…” he hissed, carding his hands through Tony’s hair and holding on tight. “Christ… Your _mouth_ , Tony.” And then he’s pushing and pulling Tony on to him and thrusting to match each movement so that he’s fucking Tony’s mouth while the younger man _took_ it and clutched at his thighs, silently begging for more even as he choked on the cock in his mouth.

 

And then just as Steve was about to come, he ripped Tony off of him and jerked himself off until come shot out of his cock and onto Tony’s cheeks and eyes and open mouth. The teenager licked at his come-stained lips and traced his fingers through the mess on his face, and Steve watched as he licked it off. He brushed at the droplet of come that decorated his lover’s eyelash and held his finger out for Tony to suck, which he did, enthusiastically.

 

“I’ll never tire of seeing you marked and sated and compliant,” Steve whispered, tracing patterns onto Tony’s wet cheeks and spreading the come evenly before bending over and licking it off one cheek, then the other. Tony cried out softly, clutching onto one calf with one hand and palming himself through his pants with the other.

 

“ _Please_ , Steve,” he begged, employing the look he used that always got him what he wanted.

 

 _Almost_ always, anyway.

 

Steve caught the wrist that was desperately attempting to bring himself off and pulled it up high so that they could exchange several more of those filthy kisses that they both loved so much. Tony’s other hand moved to clutch at Steve’s bicep as Steve verily devoured his mouth, laying claim to what Tony had already given willingly, innumerably in the past.

 

The car stopped, and Tony quickly pulled away to scramble for his clothes, the urgency not so much for shame, but because they were _home_ and Steve had made _promises_. The younger man pushed the car door open, ignoring Jarvis who stood just off the side, and practically ran up to their room. Steve chuckled and strolled up to the main foyer calmly, bidding Jarvis a hello and a good night, then following Tony at a more leisurely pace. As the double doors slid shut behind him, only then did he turn to Tony, standing in the archway of their suite’s mini-foyer, looking eager and restless and so damn delicious, and shove him up against the nearest wall, ripping another kiss from his mouth.

 

Tony let out a small cry that was muffled by Steve’s mouth and wrapped one leg around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer and grinding their hips together. Steve grasped both of his wrists and pressed them to the cement beside his head, trapping him there as he took and took and took, and only when Steve was content did he pull them off the wall and into the suite’s lounge, stumbling gracelessly and falling onto the carpet between the coffee table and couch. He ignored Tony’s small grunt of pain as they landed on top of each other and pulled off his shirt and jacket and pants with unrestrained impatience, ruining the fabrics as a consequence, until Tony was naked and spread before him and writhing and begging to be fucked.

 

After that, it was easier to pull himself away from the sub and sit back on his heels, fighting to regain his breath and delighting himself in looking over the tanned, toned teenage body beneath him.

 

“Steve… Steve, _please_ ,” Tony whined, reaching for his Dom, beckoning him closer. Steve simply pressed a hand to his chest and held him down on the ground.

 

“Patience, darling,” he murmured and then reached for one of Tony’s hands and licked his way around two fingers. The moan that escaped his lover couldn’t be helped. He knew what he was doing to his godson: his eyes were deliberately half-lidded and seductive, his mouth deliberately obscene in its noises, his tongue deliberately, simultaneously teasing and thorough. Tony whined and bucked against his hold as though attempting to gain friction against his cock, but it wasn’t lost on Steve that Tony didn’t try to touch himself with his free hand. “Good boy,” he murmured without having realized he had done so, and Tony moaned again at the praise. Steve pressed Tony’s fingers against his own entrance and pushed slowly, forcing the moistened digits into him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered. “Go on, open yourself for me.” Tony nodded through another moan and complied even as Steve pulled his own hand away and stood. “Don’t stop,” Steve commanded as he left his sub finger fucking himself on the floor.

 

Those few seconds were very nearly torture, but necessary as the older man did not make it a habit to keep lube lying about the lounge of their suite. He stole into the bathroom and grabbed the tube of slick out of the medicine cabinet before returning to the sight of Tony’s arched back, spread legs and stiff, purpling erection. He supposed he should take pity on his lover and have him come, but he wasn’t planning on drawing him out much longer anyway.

 

He settled himself back between Tony’s legs and tugged his hand away. The cry of protest was ignored easily enough in favor of a direct view of his reddened hole. Steve wasn’t the type of person to deny himself the simple pleasures of life, especially those that were free for his consumption, so he dipped his head and ran his tongue from the valley between Tony’s ass cheeks right up to the very tip of his cock.

 

“OH! Oh God, Steve!” Tony very nearly shouted, but no, it wasn’t enough to tip him over the edge and make him come. It was only enough to reduce him to incoherent babbles of pleasure. “Pleasepleaseplease, sir. Please. I need—fuck… fuck me please, Steve, sir. _Please_ …” And Steve really did love it when Tony called him “sir” which he only did so naturally in the throes of passion, or seductively otherwise, so the fumble with the lube was quick as he slicked himself up and slicked Tony up with a pair of fingers that scissored wide in him to check that he was stretched enough. When he deemed it so, he pushed into the smaller man as slow as he could keep it (which wasn’t all that slow, really), and Tony had stilled beneath him, his back arched off the floor and his mouth opened in an “O” which Steve knew meant he was on the verge of screaming in pleasure.

 

When he had seated himself in his sub, he paused and waited for Tony to adjust around him—he had no doubt about how big he was, after all—and when Tony came down from his high, pulled himself out slowly. The sound Tony made was small and sharp, but Steve refrained from calling it a squeak lest Tony get all huffy on him. Instead, he pushed himself back in, calling on all his patience to keep from slamming home and tearing Tony wide open. It was tempting—oh, so tempting—especially when he thought about how Tony would show all the signs of being so thoroughly fucked the next day, but he didn’t make it a habit of hurting his lover, even when it was encouraged.

 

With each thrust, Tony relaxed around him—the grip on his shoulders getting looser, the muscles of his body less strung, the stiffness of his movements more fluid—and then Steve got what he wanted and was slamming into him the way he wanted, the way Tony demanded. He clutched tightly at Tony’s thighs, dragging him closer and pushing him farther with each thrust, pressing bruises into the pale and tender skin that Tony would scold him for apologizing for. He bit his lip to stifle the grunts that escaped him with each thrust and instead let go of one thigh to lower the intensity of his movements and to grasp at Tony’s ignored member. He closed a fist around nearly the entire length of it and slid his thumb over the wetness at the tip and then Tony was _gone_ , crying out as his orgasm was wrung out of him with blinding force.

 

The white fluid escaped in ribbons from the slit and coated his neck and chest and stomach, and Steve’s momentum was nearly broken in fascination. He let go of the still twitching member and dipped his head to lick at the come on Tony’s neck before inadvertently biting down as Tony suddenly clenched down and squeezed the orgasm right out of him. His own come painted Tony’s insides with each spurt, so sudden that his brain didn’t even have the time to prepare a cry of release. He should have been mortified at the tiny squeak—and yes, his was a squeak because the brat had double standards like that—that escaped him in time with the last spurt, but he was far too gone to care at the quiet snickers of his lover beneath him.

 

Tony twisted his fingers into the hair at the base of Steve’s skull and pulled him closer for a long, long kiss, moaning as Steve pulled out.

 

“Brat,” Steve decided to say because it felt like the right adjective at the moment.

 

“Your brat,” Tony answered with a smile that was dazed and sated and teasing and beautiful all at once. Steve kissed him because he couldn’t not.

 

“Yeah,” was all he could say.


End file.
